


Down On Both Knees

by FantasiaV



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drowning, M/M, Mixed feelings, Torture, War, really really dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaV/pseuds/FantasiaV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderich learns to be more careful during war. The hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down On Both Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Halsey's "Hold Me Down".  
> Written from Roderich's point of view.

My demons are begging me to open up my mouth.  
They have good enough reason to. I am in pain, so much agonizing pain. I want to scream. I want to howl with the wind. But I don't want to give my captors the satisfaction of knowing that I am in pain. I bite my tongue. This type of stubborness typically comes with a price.  
Autumn has reached the battlefield. The air is cold, mutli-colored leaves scatter the ground, and I have made some mistakes. Mistake number one was leaving the Austrian campgrounds wearing what I am wearing -- a thin button-up shirt, patched pants, and shoes with breaking soles. Mistake number two was wandering. God, I shouldn’t have wandered. If hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten lost. I wouldn’t have been cold and desperate enough to knock on the door of the first house I found. Mistake number three was believing that I was still in Austrian territory. Mistake number four was letting my guard down.  
The Prussians found me. The warm sanctuary of the house I stumbled into became a cold prison. The Prussians dragged me back to their quarters. Even now, as they tie cords around my arms and legs, I resist. But it makes no difference. They fight me, vigorous and angry. I can only watch them pounce.  
I would rather they ignite me. I would rather they stand around me and lick up the flames that they bring about.   
For me, what they plan on doing is ten times worse.  
Gilbert stands in between the men. His posture conveys an attitude that is far too smug. He is in control and he knows it. I heard him talking to the men earlier. He knows that I would rather have fire. He knows that what I truly fear is water.  
He has his men lead me to the river. The water is dark and murky with mud.  
“Don’t you worry Specs, I’ve made sure that nobody has taken a piss in here,” he laughs. It’s a cold, merciless sound. Colder than the falling Autumn temperature. “We wouldn’t want to kill the little fishies.”  
I glare at him. He knows who I am. He knows what I am like and what I fear most. I would say that I hate him for it, but hate isn’t strong enough of a word.  
He snaps his fingers and the men flanking my sides push down on my shoulders. Soon enough, they’ve got me down on both knees, but it’s that devil, Gilbert, who’s trying to hold me down.  
His hands tangle in my hair. They get a good grip before pushing hard. My face breaks through the water’s surface. It’s cold. So, so cold. He doesn’t give me enough time to prepare and water goes in my mouth, up my nose. It stings. It burns. I shake violently against his grip, but it only makes my glasses fall into the river’s depths. When he brings me up, I am choking and sputtering.  
Gilbert’s grip grows tighter with impatience. “Give us the information. Where are your troops and what are your battle plans?”  
I am still coughing. It’s hard to breathe, much less say anything. “I-I won’t tell you.”  
Now that I’m out of the water, the wind is attacking me. However cold it was before, now it is colder. Wet locks of hair fall down my forehead. The top of my shirt is entirely drenched. I am shivering, but the Prussians don’t care. They want to throw me in the deep end and watch me drown. They want to knock me out.  
“You won’t tell me?” Gilbert chuckles. “Then you must want more. This is what you live for.”  
He submerges me in the water again. I am slightly more prepared this time. I hold my breath and shut my eyes. Gilbert can’t hold me down forever. Sooner or later he has to give up of this game. I won’t give him the information that he wants. And we both know that he can’t kill me. If I hang in, for however much longer, I might win.  
Gilbert doesn’t release his hold on my head for some time. I begin to suffocate. My throat aches. My lungs burn. I need air, fresh air. Something slippery brushes across my face and I momentarily panic. The river is too shallow to support any dangerous marine life. I want to tell myself that it’s just some sort of plant. Some sort of horrible, disgusting, slimy and wet, underwater plant. But I know that I felt fins.  
I am pulled out of the water again. Again, I cough and sputter for a good minute before the Prussians subject me to their questioning. Again, I refuse to give them answers. Between chokes, I tell them that they’re selfish, that they can’t just take what they want and call it their own.  
Gilbert completely disregards what I say. He tells me that I’m helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine. He isn’t wrong there. We both know that I’m putting on airs, pretending to be braver than I am.  
It’s his boot that presses down on my head the next time. His cold, hard boot, with much more force than necessary sends me face first into the water. The pressure makes me scream and in doing so I inhale the water. It floods my throat and lungs. The more I choke, the more I cough, the worse it becomes. He pulls me up again, but only for a second. I don’t even have time to cough up the water before I plummet once more. Everything aches and burns -- my throat, the back of my neck, my head. I am pulled up and submerged three more times. I swear it really is the devil that’s trying to hold me down.  
The fourth time I am pulled up, I expect to be pushed right back into the water. But I am not. Gilbert only stares at me. He’s growing impatient.  
“Hurry up. You’re the one running out of time anyway.”  
“I won’t ever tell you -- “  
“Shush.” His eyes flash dangerously. “You’re walking a fragile line here, Edelstein. Tell me or God help me I will keep this up forever.”  
Several of the men behind him are beginning to grow restless. They are cold -- not as cold as I am -- but cold nonetheless. They don’t want to wait forever and so they wait for Gilbert’s attention, which he grants them begrudgingly. Three of the men insist that Gilbert walks with them, at least so their conversation is out of my earshot. Five men are left watching me. They say nothing and I appreciate it.  
Water drips down my face. My hands are bound so I must blink to clear my eyes of the droplets. Water has settled in my ears, making it difficult to hear the four Prussians as they walk farther out. I can make out some sort of commotion, however. The three men are arguing with Gilbert and Gilbert is arguing back. Their voices grow louder and louder until they subside completely.  
The men come back in silence. Their boots crunch colored leaves underfoot. The returning soldiers speak with the ones who stayed. They are all whispering, murmuring, careful to keep their words once again out of earshot. When Gilbert arrives, for some reason he is walk much slower, they dissipate. Several of the men return to the tents while others walk away and pretend to look busy.  
He crouches down in front of me. I can’t tell what he is thinking. His expression confuses me. It appears as if his eyebrows are knitted together with concern and that his eyes hold some look of fear. But that doesn’t make sense. He is in the one in control. What does he have to fear?  
I don’t have much time to dwell on the subject. One of his gloved hands cups my cheek. His thumb wipes water from my eye before pulling my chin up slightly. He appears to be examining me. His eyes are intensely focused on my face and it’s beginning to become weird.  
“You’re walking a fragile line…” He tells me again.  
“It’s not a line that I haven’t walked before.” He should know that as a nation I’ve faced much worse. We all have.  
“No, it isn’t. But it’s still painful.” His face draws closer to mine. I could count every single one of his eyelashes if I wanted to. “I don’t want to see you in pain.”  
I open my mouth to retort, but he doesn’t let the words come out. Instantly, his mouth is on mine. I am hit with his chapped lips and a sudden sense of bewilderment. Gilbert is kissing me. Why is he kissing me?  
Granted, he isn’t very experienced. His lips move awkwardly. He is hesitant to use his tongue. He kisses me slowly, moving with uncertainty I had never thought possible. His hands cup my cheeks. He holds me tenderly, deepens the kiss, and fills me with a half queasy, half ecstatic feeling.  
Our lips part, but he continues to linger near. His eyes lock on mine intently. I want to return the eye contact, but all I can stare at are his lips -- still glistening with saliva.  
“Roderich…” He is whispering now. His voice is no longer angry and threatening. “Roderich, please tell me what you know. I’m doing this for you.”  
A wave of nausea crashes over me. Oh God, he’s using me. He’s using me for information. He’s manipulating my emotions. It shouldn’t mean much, it should be expected really, but the realization makes me furious. I want to hit him. I want to reach for the sword at my hilt and put an end to him. But I am bound. And no amount of squirming can change that.  
I spit at his feet. I will never sell my soul to this three-piece. He can tell me that I am as holy as he pleases, but it doesn’t change the fact that he has me down on both knees -- bound and dripping with cold river water.  
Gilbert’s stare grows cold. He gets up in a hurry, still staring at me. The look makes me shiver. A cold, white rage emanates from him. It’s the terrifying sort of aura that just tells you that you are a dead man. He doesn’t say a word to me before leaving.   
The soldiers are rushing back now -- their faces etched with concern. They ask Gilbert what happened. They ask if he has learned anything and react with surprise when Gilbert shakes his head. It's a rather odd turn of events. If I hadn't known better, I would say that it was the soldiers' idea to have Gilbert kiss me. Why they would even think that would work is beyond me. Gilbert and I are enemies. We will detest each other for all of time. There will be no mercy, no softness, no room for petty emotions.  
Perhaps that's why Gilbert's reaction surprises me. He looks back over his shoulder, giving me a brief look of something that faintly resembles sorrow. He snaps his head back to his men immediately and barks out a new set of orders:  
“Throw him in the deep end. Watch him drown.”


End file.
